I think we can all agree that sometimes, plans sound better when we’re making them than when it’s actually time to do them. And then the new plan becomes how to get out of going...

We used to need an excuse. A headache. A deadline. A suspiciously unfortunate week for a grandmother nobody previously knew existed.

Now, we have a philosophy: We’re protecting our peace. It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card sponsored by every life coach selling a $500 course on “saying no” and “choosing yourself.”

And who could argue with that? Definitely not the Friend standing next to their birthday cake quietly wondering if asking you to come counts as emotional manipulation (you had to leave the west side for crying out loud).

It makes sense how our generation got here. Learning to set boundaries was so far overdue. Especially for anyone who grew up believing that being good meant being endlessly accommodating. If our recent Cool Girl analysis taught us anything: everyone else’s comfort came at her expense. Learning to be honest about what we need—even when that means disappointing someone’s expectations of who we should be, declining an invitation or leaving a relationship that hurts us—is progress.

But I’m beginning to question how much everyday life we’ve started filing under things that hurt us.

A disagreement. A request. An evening that requires us to get dressed and go outside after we’ve already done our skincare.

We’ve talked about getting comfortable with other people not always liking what we say. Are we willing to be just as uncomfortable when they have something to say to us? And have we become so committed to protecting our inner peace that we’ve forgotten how to handle even a temporary disruption?

A viral video by Lindsiann Shi recently got me thinking about this. She describes arranging her life around ultra-minimal effort, only to find herself restless and dissatisfied anyway. She runs through all the inconveniences we’ve completely eliminated from our daily lives. We have groceries delivered. Then we have dinner delivered because the groceries sometimes require too much follow-through. We stream shows without commercials, adjust the thermostat from the couch and select “leave at door” to eliminate the possibility of a brief human interaction with the delivery person. We can even select a silent ride on Uber.

Almost every minor irritation has a solution (and usually that solution has our credit card info saved).

I happily indulge in all of this, btw. Nobody should mistake this for an announcement that I’ll be churning my own butter from now on. But I do wonder what happens when this level of ease becomes something we expect from everything. Especially in a city where we’ll pay someone to bring us a $25 “anti-stress” smoothie, then forget how to interact with another human when they call for the gate code.

Even our idea of a normal work life has changed. Most of us can barely imagine going into an office five days a week anymore. Getting dressed in real clothes, packing a lunch, commuting there and back, having to socialize all day... every day? Our parents and grandparents still don’t know what part of any of that sounds unusual. Because most of them did exactly that, sometimes commuting a long way, and staying at the same job for forty-plus years. Forty. Years.

Meanwhile, three mandatory office days a week have us casually browsing jobs on LinkedIn...

Flexible work has massive benefits. And leaving a bad job will never be something I discourage. But it’s interesting how quickly something can go from a normal part of life to something we feel we can’t possibly manage.

Pulling from Michael Easter’s The Comfort Crisis, Lindsiann talks about deciding to take the stairs over the elevator or escalator (even if you have to hunt them down) as a small example of a much bigger habit: dismissing something because it requires more effort, without considering what we might gain from doing it. There’s an evolutionary explanation here: conserving energy was useful a zillion years ago, back when our great great ancestors had to deal with the fact that getting fed required significantly more courage and skill than remembering DoorDash login credentials.

Our ancestors had predators. We have texts that say, “Hey, can we talk?” (I can admit my heartbeat races a little just typing those words... ). What would our family lineage think of us needing three days to process a message like that—or a beta blocker to introduce ourselves in a room full of people—when they had to outrun a lion just to find dinner?

To be fair, they probably would’ve appreciated an easier option, too. We just have a looot more available now.

Her video also brings in psychiatrist Anna Lembke’s work on pleasure and craving. Her explanation is that overdoing intense rewards can leave us enjoying them less and seeking them more. It starts to become a cycle: we get a quick dopamine hit, the feeling fades, and we reach for another. Over time, the same stimulation can stop feeling like enough, so we keep upping the ante to get the feeling we’re chasing.

I think about that when I catch myself checking my phone every five seconds on a psychotic loop. And yep, I’ve read all the articles about why my brain is killing off a handful of its own cells each morning that I reach for my phone as soon as I open my eyes. And if there’s something I actually want to watch on TV, my phone goes in the other room because apparently, my brain needs a small side of entertainment to accompany my entertainment.

Then we bring that same attention span to living, breathing people right in front of us. If your Friend’s story has several unnecessary details about a coworker’s aunt’s neighbor, you have to stay locked in and accept the fact that a satisfying plot twist is probably not around every corner.

I’m sure after hunting down their food, our greatest ancestors sat around enjoying the stillness, grateful for a meal and a moment of peace.

Now, obviously the fact that we no longer have to kill or be killed is a blessing we shouldn’t take for granted. Modern medicine, technology, and everyday conveniences have made so much of life safer and easier. Those are advances worth celebrating.

But while we’ve gotten this good at making life more comfortable, why does it seem like we’re all still struggling to be comfortable in it? The synopsis for Michael Easter’s book literally says: “our climate-controlled, underchallenged lives may be quietly making us sick, sad and soft...the world’s leading scientists reveal how deliberately embracing discomfort reclaims a wild, happy, healthy self.”

So I guess the good news is, it’s never too late to choose the harder path and see what happens.

There’s a part of the brain involved in persistence called the anterior mid-cingulate cortex (wooooh science). Think of it as helping weigh whether something is worth the effort. It isn’t literally a muscle, but comparing it to exercise is helpful. Our willingness to tackle something difficult can be trained. In one study, rewarding people for mental effort made them more willing to choose challenging tasks afterward, even without another reward.

Sometimes that means answering a family call when you’d prefer silence. Sometimes it’s showing up for people in real life. On The Morgan Stewart Show, Morgan Stewart and Sara Foster recently chatted about the importance of showing up for birthdays, and I’m with them. Even if it’s way the hell on the other side of the 110 because your Friend cares that you’re there, even though you’re tired and don’t know anyone else there (I promise you’ll survive). There’s a saying that you have to be a villager if you want a village. And I’ve always believed that most of life is just showing up—for yourself and for the people you hope will do the same for you.

Sometimes it means having uncomfortable conversations. Hearing tough things. Saying tougher things. Feeling uncomfortable doesn’t automatically mean someone crossed a boundary. Sometimes they’re telling us something we need to hear, and calling it a boundary violation gives us a convenient reason to stop listening.

Quick PSA: I’m not suggesting we make life harder for sport. Life is more than capable of providing its own problems, guaranteed and free of charge. There’s something beautiful about our generation taking mental health seriously, asking for help and questioning expectations that leave people exhausted. I want us to keep doing that!

Illness, depression, burnout, and genuine mistreatment deserve care. What I’m questioning is whether we’ve started treating every typical discomfort as a sign that something is wrong. Sometimes we need protection, but sometimes we need to tolerate an awkward ten minutes so a relationship can get better. Or sit with something uncomfortable in order to recognize where we need to grow.

I want to take care of myself without assuming that everything I’d rather avoid is bad for me. Some things are worth the extra effort, awkwardness, temporary discomfort, or disruption. And I’d like to leave enough room in my life to find out what things those are and what I’ll gain from them. And I want the people I love to feel they can need me. Even at a “bad time.”

I’d like to give a little more than whatever happens to feel effortless that day. For them and myself.


—Your Friend